Jeepers Creepers
by Greaser Heart
Summary: A nurse with a bleeding heart, Olivia Baker reluctantly helps Daryl Dixon from the ravine, an arrow protruding from his side. When she manages to get him back to Hershel's, she thinks she's done with the rough redneck and his group. But when she returns to the ravine for arrows, she finds Sophia's doll in the water and that doll manages to change all of her plans.
1. Chapter 1

**I do not own** _ **The Walking Dead**_ **or its characters. These are the property of AMC. I only own Olivia. Enjoy!**

Arrow through the brain, fall to the ground. The routine was monotonous, taking out creeper after creeper. My compound bow had become like an extensive of my arm since the world went to shit. I kept it at my side, and the owner of it, my father, in my heart. Maybe that was all that got me through, knowing that he would want me to continue to fight and survive despite the odds stacked against me. Well, if he could see these creeps now, maybe he would understand that sometimes, fighting made one tired and being tired, made one reckless. Perhaps I was finally getting to that point. If I was, then why did I notch another arrow into the bowstring and shoot the creep that was approaching me, pulling back and releasing it into his rotting head?

With the last one from what I could tell down, I went to pull the two shafts from their brains, if the mush they had become could be called that, returning them to the quiver on my back, and headed in the direction I had been previously walking in to find some much needed water. From what I could hear about half a mile back, there was some kind of stream nearby and I needed refilling before my supply got too low. I didn't want to be caught out in these woods after dark since the trees looked too tall to climb and the branches looked nowhere near able to support my weight.

Several more feet ahead and I could see a drop off. I looked over the edge and wasn't too surprised to see a creeper approaching a corpse on the ground below. The problem was that the corpse wasn't exactly a corpse and began moving as the undead began to grab at his foot. I notched the arrow and sent it straight through the creep's mush head, then notched another as the second creep began to approach its prey. With both put down, I began to slowly make my way down to the ground below, retrieving my arrows on the back burner as I began to approach the man.

"Hey," I asked as he grabbed at the crossbow at his side, "you all right?"

"I'm fine. Beat it," he spat at me.

"Yeah, cause that arrow sticking out your side is the definition of fine."

"What do you care," he retorted, using the crossbow to help him get to his feet.

"Well, since I just saved your ass, I was thinking I could at least get a thank you, but I expected too much in this shit. I'll get my arrows and go. Go screw yourself, jackass."

I went to the two creeps and, once again, pulled the shafts from their heads, wiping them against my pants as I made my way over to the water to do what I had come here to do.

Crouching down to fill up my three bottles, I could hear Mr. Sunshine behind me groaning as he tried, and failed to effectively pull the arrow from his side. I sighed, knowing that he was going to need my help. As much as I wanted to kick his ungrateful ass into next week, the nurse in me knew I had to lend a hand…again. How fortunate for me.

I shoved the bottles back in my bag, slinging it over my shoulder as I got up to attend to the stranger.

He looked up at me from his twisted position as he tried to get a look at the wound. He looked me up and down, then that rusty voice said, "Didn't I tell you to beat it?" I exhaled a heavy sigh from my nose and dropped my bag to the ground, laying my bow beside it. I walked behind him to where the feathered end of the arrow was and placed a hand on his back. Without a warning, I yanked the arrow from his side like you'd rip off a band aid. He yelled in pain, then looked back and spat at me, "Bitch!"

"Look, I didn't have to save your ass from those creeps. I could have let your sorry skull get eaten, but by the goodness of my heart, I made a choice. Now shut the hell up and let me do this." I tore a piece of fabric from the bottom of my shirt and began to wrap the piece around his torso, tying a tight knot to help slow down the bleeding. I picked up my bag and threw it on my back, slinging my bow over my shoulder by the leather strap attached to it. "You got somewhere you're staying? You're not gonna get far on your own with that wound."

He looked at me incredulously then slung his crossbow over his shoulder, turning to the ledge behind him and began to make his way to the top. I sighed and decided I was done here, wanting to get rid of this load as soon as I could. With much effort and making sure the jerk above me doesn't fall back on his ass, we finally make it to the top. He starts to limp forward in the way of wherever he's been staying.

"You gonna just leave without telling me your name?"

"You're not my problem."

I sigh, the nurse in me once again making me move forward to pull his arm over my shoulder. I don't know why I care enough to actually give a damn about this jackass, but here I am continuing to help him out. Maybe it's my dad's voice in the back of my head telling me that leaving him to stagger around on his own is as good as killing him. There's my other problem; besides the nurse in me, my father, who was a medical examiner, always managed to appeal to my humanity. It seems that hasn't worn off despite his death.

"Unfortunately for the both of us, you've become mine. Now, where are we going?" We stare at each other for a moment then he begins heading forward.

"I'll lead," he replies.

A few miles and several hundred limping steps later, the trees begin to fade behind us and the field before us allows the sunlight to warm my skin from the shade it's been covered in for the past few hours. My eyes focus ahead of us on two men running towards us yelling at one another. We stop as they approach, both men with their guns raised towards us. I guess with the limping and the dirt clinging to our skins, we're not exactly the epitome of human-looking from far away.

"Is that Daryl," the brown haired man asks. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm the one who saved your buddy here," I retort. "Maybe you'd have preferred I'd left him in that ravine?"

"Look, she's fine. But that's the third time you've pointed that thing at me. You gonna use it or what?"

Before I can even blink, a force knocks Daryl backwards and out of the grasp I had around his waist. It's like life has gone into slow motion and I look down at him, lying on the ground, a fresh stream of blood coming from his temple. I kneel down next to him, quickly turning his head to the side to check yet another wound. The brown haired man that had his gun aimed at me is yelling at the top of his lungs to someone across the field. Maybe that's where the gunshot came from.

"I was just kidding," Daryl groans, his words slurring as he loses consciousness. I begin to try to lift him off the ground, but, as I struggle, the brown haired man approaches Daryl's other side, helping lift his limp body. We both throw an arm over our shoulders and I follow the brown haired man as he leads the way.

"We're going to the farm up ahead. We've got it from here."

"I've gotten him this far. I'm gonna see the rest through."

The man looks over at me, a skeptical look on his face.

"All right. But you follow my lead."

More people come running up to us, a blonde woman and an Asian man. The blonde is exclaiming, "Is he dead?"

I spit, "He's unconscious, no thanks to you. Just ruined all of my hard work patching him up and getting him here. Now get out of our way."

We nearly get to the house when the brown haired man finally asks, "Who are you anyway?"

"The name's Olivia Baker. Now, shut up and keep moving."

 **This is the first chapter of my new Walking Dead fanfiction. If there's anything you guys want me to touch on while I'm writing this story, please let me know in the reviews and please enjoy! Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I do not own** _ **The Walking Dead**_ **or any of its characters. These are the property of AMC. I only own Olivia.**

 **Well, guys, thank you so much for the reviews so far! I'm so glad you guys are enjoying it! Now, I do have one review to address simply because I want to understand it and not disappoint my reader.**

 **Bluemom: What did you mean by not making her a superhero? As in giving her powers or she's always the one to come to the rescue? I'm going to try my best not to make her the one that always tries to save the day, but that's also a complex she has because of several things in her past. I promise, her personality and why she does certain things will be clarified as we keep going. But please answer, cause I would love to hear your thoughts and opinions. Thank you so much for your review!**

 **Here we go with Chapter 2!**

I stood outside the bedroom door, waiting for the brown haired man and "Santa Clause" to come out and tell me how Daryl was. Once I knew, I'd already decided I'd be on my way. I hadn't been with anyone this entire time, and I seemed to be doing just fine on my own. Besides, I didn't like staying in one place for very long. Eventually, no matter where someone decided to lay low, walkers always managed to ruin whatever little bit of peace you had found. I knew it wouldn't last and I was going to get going before I ended up staying against my better judgment.

My thoughts were interrupted as the two men came out of the bedroom we had taken Daryl to.

"How is he," I inquired.

"He's all right. Thanks to your quick thinking, it's nothing that couldn't be easily fixed." The white haired man was wiping his hands off with a towel as he updated me on Daryl's condition. "What's your name?"

"Olivia. Olivia Baker."

"Hershel Greene. If you need somewhere to stay, my farm has enough room for one more. I could use a nurse on hand with the way things are going these days."

"I really can't stay," I replied, nodding my thanks. "I should get going. I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

"We really appreciate you helping him," the brown haired man informed me.

"Yeah. Well, like I said, I should be on my way." I made my way to the front door, grabbing my pack, bow, and quiver as I made my way out. As I made my way down the front steps, I heard footsteps behind me and turned to once again be faced by the brown haired man. He had an arrow in hand; I guess it had fallen out of the quiver as I was walking out.

"Oh, thank you. Might need those," I said as I put the arrow back into its place.

"You're really heading back out there," he asked with an inquiring cock of his head.

"Guess so. I've made it on my own this far."

"Well, if you ever need anything, you know where we are. Like I said, we really appreciate your help." He stuck out his hand for me to shake. "Rick, by the way. Rick Grimes."

"Well, Rick Grimes, keep that redneck of yours from getting himself killed. And I wish you all the luck."

We shook hands, and I began to walk away. Perhaps in another life, I might have stayed. But the world wasn't that simple and I wasn't the same from a year ago. As I made my way back into the woods, I wondered if our paths would cross again…

I ended up having to head back to the ravine to pick up some more of my arrows. Apparently, I had left some back there without knowing. My father did always say that I would forget my own head if it wasn't attached. When I finally found the arrows I had misplaced, I went to grab them and finally be getting on my way. But as I stooped down to retrieve them, an odd piece of cloth in the corner of my eye grabbed my attention. I looked up to see a doll lying in the water, looking like it had been there for quite some time.

Picking it up from the water, its yarn hair matted together, I started to think; maybe this is why Daryl had been down here in the first place. And, knowing I would have to go back, I dug my nails into the fabric, wishing I hadn't stopped for water in the first place…

 **Thank you again for all your reviews! Please keep them coming! Remember, constructive criticism only. Thank you again for reading! God bless!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you everyone for all of your reviews! I'm so happy that you all are enjoying this story and we're only two chapters in. I promise I'll continue to get more out at a reasonable pace. Please continue to let me know what you think and feedback is always welcome. As always, enjoy!**

 **I do not own** _ **The Walking Dead**_ **or its characters. They belong to AMC. I only own Olivia.**

I stared out at the farmhouse, my hand trembling as it held tightly to the doll in my grasp. Didn't I just say that I couldn't stay here, that I was better off on my own? But, as usual, my feet wouldn't listen to me and began to make their way back to the house. It seemed like it took an eternity for me to once again reach the front door, and I hesitated as I lifted my hand to knock on the glass door. My heart sped up as Rick came to the door and opened it, a confused look plaguing his features.

"Olivia. I didn't think we'd see you again so soon."

"I didn't think I'd be back so soon." I lifted the doll up to where he could see and his eyes widened as he seemed to recognize the toy. "I found this when I went back to the ravine for arrows. I assumed that this is what Daryl had been looking for."

Rick took it from my hand and stared down at the little bundle; obviously there was a piece here that I was missing. This doll apparently meant a lot more than I had originally guessed.

"Thank you," he exhaled, a shaky tinge to his deep voice. He looked up at me, and I could see a hint of wetness brimming his lower lashes. Yeah, this doll was definitely more than I had first expected.

"I just wanted to be sure it got back to you if it had been what he was looking for. Glad I could help."

I began to make my way back down the steps, back to my own way of life and away from people. But a hand on my arm stopped me and I could feel my heart running a million miles a second because I knew what was coming next.

"Olivia. Please listen." I hesitated for a moment, my eyes averting Ricks, instead looking to the ground. I sighed then looked up at him, letting him say what he was intending to.

"You've done so much for this group in such a short time. Please, we have plenty of room and I'm sure you're exhausted. Just stay for a few days and if you still feel the same way, you're free to do as you please. But give it just a few days. We could really use your help."

I looked at the features of his face, and I could tell that his offer was sincere. It was only a few days and I could use the rest. I couldn't remember the last time I didn't have to sleep without leaving one eye open. Maybe this was my chance to make a new start, a chance to have somewhere to stay for more than 24 hours. I met his blue eyes and nodded my head.

"All right, I'll stay. But if this starts to go sour, I'm back on my own."

"That's fine by me. Now come inside. I'm sure you're starving."

My stomach growled at the mention of food and I realized I hadn't had anything of substance in some time now. Making sure I didn't look too eager to eat, I walked by Rick as he held the door open for me and dropped my things by the inside mat. I could already smell whatever was cooking in the kitchen and my stomach growled even more at the anticipation of eating. Maybe I didn't have to think about leaving after all…

I sat on the front porch step, my bow and arrows sitting close by as I kept watch for walkers. Since they had been so generous in my staying here, I decided I could take first watch for the night and find a place to sleep whenever the next person came to replace me.

I had managed to find my last pack of cigarettes in my bag after dinner and already had one lit, balancing it between my teeth. I took a long drag, then savored the exhale as I pulled it from my mouth. Since I had been on my own for the last few months, I hadn't had many chances to just sit and smoke. It felt good to finally get one in after so long and finally have a place to enjoy it. As I put the cigarette back into my mouth, I heard the glass and screen door open and close behind me, footsteps approaching and then someone begin to sit down on the stairs next to me.

"Got another one of those," Daryl asked as he situated himself on the step despite his wounds. I pulled the pack from my pocket and offered it to him. He took one and I handed him my lighter as I stuck my pack back into my pocket. He lit his and then handed me back my lighter. I stuck it back into my pocket as I pulled the cigarette away from my lips.

We sat there for a few moments in silence, simply enjoying the quiet night and the sweet reprieve of a smoke. I was the first to speak, "How're you feeling?"

"Like shit," he coarsely replied.

"Don't worry," I retorted. "You look like it too."

I could see a slight twinge of his lip as he pulled his cigarette from his mouth that disappeared before I could even tell whether it was really there or not. Glad I'd managed to get some sort of reaction out of him.

"So, that doll that you were looking for. Whose is it?"

He was quiet for a moment, taking another drag of his cigarette, then exhaled, "Sophia's. She's been gone for a few days now, got lost out in the woods. Went out looking for her today, saw the doll, ended up flat on my ass. Guess I wasn't looking where I was going."

"Well, that's the understatement of the year," I snorted. I took one last drag of my cigarette, then crushed it against the porch boards, flicking it out onto the ground in front of me.

"Well, I'm ready to head to bed, so I guess I'm going to go let the Korean kid know it's his turn. Get some rest, Daryl," I told him as I made my way inside the house.

"Hey." I turned back around to face him, slinging my bow more securely onto my shoulder. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," I replied. "Just don't make me save your ass again anytime soon. I'll have to start charging you."

He 'pfft' at me, flicking his own burnt out cigarette to the ground. A slight twinge played on my lips as I made my way inside, thinking that maybe this rough redneck wasn't what I had first guessed. But, if I was going to be staying here, I guess I had no choice but to find if that was true or not.

 **Well, I hope you enjoyed Chapter 3 of** _ **Jeepers Creepers**_ **. Let me know at any time in this story if I write Daryl or anyone else out of character, because that is one of my biggest pet peeves. Help me make this story as enjoyable as possible. Thanks again and keep reviewing!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey there! I can't thank you all enough for your wonderful reading and enjoyment of this story. I'm blown away at the great response you all have given this story. So, one of my lovely reviewers wanted to know what Olivia looked like so I decided this chapter would be more Rick's POV and describe what she looks like from the outside looking in. This one might be a bit shorter but I hope you all still enjoy it. Please continue to read and review! Thank you again!**

 **I do not own** _ **The Walking Dead**_ **or its characters. They belong to AMC. I only own Olivia.**

 _Rick's POV_

The former police officer closed the bedroom door quietly behind him, Lori reprieving his vigil so that he could go to the kitchen and be able to get some food after several hours without it. Patricia was already cleaning up from lunch and offered a plate of food that she had saved for him when he finally decided to come and eat. He took the plate, thanking her for her thoughtfulness, and retreated to the porch for some fresh air while he ate.

Taking a seat on the front porch steps, he began stuffing his mouth with food, his stomach craving it since it hadn't been filled since early the day before. He was grateful that Carl was finally feeling better from several days ago, and it wouldn't be too long until he was back on his feet. Rick had never felt so relieved or felt like he could breathe so easily. When Carl had been shot, his world had simply stopped, it had become nothing more than a blur, him spinning into the abyss and his son hanging in the balance between life and death. Without Hershel, Shane, and Otis' noble sacrifice, his son wouldn't have made it and Rick didn't know if he would have lasted much longer himself.

As Rick continued eating his lunch, he looked out at the farmland and his eye caught the newest arrival to the group. Olivia had been helping look after Daryl at the campsite and doing what she could around the farm. Despite her appearance, she was clearly capable of taking care of herself and engaging in hard labor.

With long, thick curly hair tumbling down her back, even pulled back into a haphazard ponytail, and blue eyes muddled with green, she was very beautiful, her features soft and gentle, compared to her harsh nature. At first meeting, she was a bit rough around the edges, and the image of her then smoking as she leaned back against a tree definitely didn't help that first impression. But, over the course of the last few days, and her willingness to help Hershel continue to care for Carl, helped Rick's first idea of her dissipate and be replaced with something gentler.

The tank-top she wore showed off the tattoos from the edge of her wrist to the middle of her forearm, splashes of roses in many colors covering the tan skin behind them. As she flicked her finished cigarette onto the ground and rose from her spot, her back turned to him, Rick could also see the hints of more roses and the top of a skull peeking out from the edge of her tank-top.

In some ways, she reminded him a bit of Daryl, a harsh exterior that hid a much softer interior. And in other ways, she was a creature of her own making. But, despite all the meager information he had gathered on her within the past few days, he was grateful to her for her help with Daryl and Carl, and that was something he didn't know how he could repay. But maybe, with the way the world had been going lately, he wouldn't have to wait long to repay that debt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guys! Thank you all so much for your reading and support of this story. I am so floored by its response. Please continue letting me know what you think and reviewing. I appreciate it so much! Here we go with Chapter 5!**

 **I do not own** _ **The Walking Dead**_ **or its characters. It belongs to AMC. I only own Olivia.**

Looking down at the map that was spread out on the hood of the truck, Rick was giving us assignments as we continued the search for Sophia. I'd only been a part of the group for a couple of days now, but Rick had decided in letting me in on the search, someone to help if the girl was injured in any way since Hershel was needed at the farm.

"Shane and Andrea will take this section of the woods, go along the highway and see if there's any sign that she made her way to the road. Daryl, Olivia, Carol, and I will go back to the spot we left the supplies, see if anything's missing or if she's been there recently. Only use ammunition if absolutely necessary. We don't want to draw walkers to us or her. All right, you know your areas. Meet back here before it gets dark."

I made sure that my gun was fully loaded, then tucked it into the back of my pants under my shirt. Making sure all of my arrows were in my quiver, my bow slung on my shoulder, I gathered up with Rick, Daryl, and Carol to start making our way to the highway.

After what seemed like hours of walking, it felt like we had barely made any headway. I was keeping my eyes open and staying alert as we quietly trudged along. I don't think there had ever been a time in my life where I'd actually allowed myself to let my guard down. Even before walkers became a threat, I still had trouble trusting people. I guess with mom leaving when I was… I shook the thought from my head. Now wasn't the time to focus on the past.

Considering a distraction, I looked up and over at Daryl as he meticulously surveyed the ground before him. From what Rick had told me, he was an amazing tracker. I'd been wondering how good he actually was and I guess I was getting to see it firsthand. He held his crossbow in both hands, as ready as I was if a walker was to show up from out of the dense trees. I traced my eyes along the dimples of muscles in his arms, thinking if only I could pen those muscles down on paper.

Wait! What the hell was I thinking? Living in a world full of threats and I was swooning over a dirty redneck with muscle dimples like some kind of schoolgirl? What was I, fifteen? God, now I needed a smoke.

We finally made it to the highway, the supplies on the car looking untouched. The dust on the car hadn't even been disturbed beyond the words that the others had presumably scrawled into it. Daryl looked around the car to see if there was any other sign that Sophia had been there, but came up with nothing. He shook his head, indicating his findings to Rick.

Rick sighed. "We'll come back later on today, see if she's come by then."

"We can't leave yet. She could be close by and we could miss her."

I approached Carol, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I promise we'll come back. We're not going to give up on your daughter."

She looked at me with regretful eyes, but conceded to go back and return later that day. I nodded my head and then we began to make the trek back to the farm.

We all sat at the campsite, eating on the meal that Maggie had brought out to us for the evening. Carol sat off to the side, barely picking at her portion. We had gone back out to see if Sophia had made it to the highway, but it looked the same as it had this morning. I had only been with the group for a few days, but I could see the toll that this search and the lack of evidence that Sophia was even alive was taking on these people. They were beginning to lose hope that Sophia was still out there.

"Why are we even still out there looking for her? That little girl's dead."

"Shane," Lori reprimanded, "you don't know that."

"Then why hasn't she turned up yet? It's been a week and all we've found is a doll."

"I found that house. Sophia was there," Daryl somberly interjected.

"Yeah, and how long ago was that? How'd do we even know she's still out there?"

I threw my plate hard onto the ground, grabbing the attention of the group. "So you're just going to give up because you have so little faith?"

"Look at the shit around us. There ain't no way that little girl is still alive and we all know it."

"Well, I'm glad you've decided for all of us. Good thing we have a man like you to make all the hard decisions."

I pulled myself off of the log I had been perched on, stomping away to find somewhere I could be by myself. I really needed that smoke now.

I decided the barn loft would be as good a place as any. It would be a lot warmer and sturdier up there than in a tree branch. Climbing up the ladder, I pulled myself up into the loft, sitting back against the wall and pulling my pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I was about to light the end of the one between my teeth, but a noise from the barn floor below caught my attention instead. It sounded strangely like a growl and I went to the edge to see if there was an animal that had gotten trapped and couldn't find its way out.

And holy shit, was I wrong…

 **Sorry it's been a little while since I've updated guys. Been sick and busy with school. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. I kind of feel like it was one of my weaker ones, but let me know what you think. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey, guys! I am so sorry that it has taken me this long to update, but it has been a very long few months. But thank you guys so much for your enjoyment of the story, reviews, and your patience! I hope y'all enjoy this chapter of** ** _Jeepers Creepers_** **!**

 **P.S. Anyone have any tips of raising a shepherd or rotti/hound mix, 6 month old puppy? Much appreciated!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** ** _The Walking Dead_** **or any of its characters. They are the property of AMC. I only own Olivia.**

We were so screwed. There were walkers in the barn. Damn creepers in the damn barn! What the hell was going on at this farm house? What were they doing with creepers in the first place? I mean, I knew Hershel was religious and killing is against the whole religious thing. But come on! These things aren't even people anymore.

I slumped against the wall of the barn loft. I knew something like this would happen. Staying in one place for very long never ended well and I had stayed way over what I intended to. I had to leave; I had to go before all shit broke loose. Because once it did, this wasn't going to end pretty.

I finally gained my bearings and stumbled my way down the ladder. I was going to the camp, packing my stuff, and leaving before anyone noticed. Up until now, I'd been looking out for me and only me. Why did I suddenly care about a group of people I barely knew?

I went to my tent, stuffing whatever would be useful and the rest of my belongings into my bag.

"Are you leaving?" The voice startled me; I reacted by pulling my gun from my waistband and aiming it at the intruder. It was Glenn, his eyes wide and hands held up in surrender as I aimed my gun at his head.

"What are you doing up," I barked.

"I'm on watch."

I lowered my gun, sticking it back into my waistband, and continued packing my things.

"I've stayed too long, Glenn. It's time that I go."

"But why? The group thinks you're great. Even Daryl would give you the benefit of the doubt."

I stopped for a moment, thinking about the crossbow-wielding redneck, but shook the thoughts from my head, grabbing my jacket and leaving.

"Where are you even going to go? There's a herd down the highway and Atlanta isn't far the other way. This place is safe. It'll take a while before any big groups of walkers get here."

"Trust me, Glenn, the creepers are closer than you think." And with that, I threw my pack over one arm, my bow and quiver firm in my other hand, and got the hell away before I watched this tranquil place be overrun by the dead.

 **Well, there's Chapter 6. Sorry it was a bit short and I will try to update again soon! Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey, guys! Thanks so much for the reviews on the last chapter. I'm so sorry that it was so short, but sometimes, parts of stories are pretty quick to tell. This one will be a bit longer though, I promise. So here goes with Chapter 7! Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** ** _The Walking Dead_** **or its characters. They are the property of AMC. I only own Olivia.**

 _Two months ago..._

My father's hand was still held tightly in min, his skin growing colder as time passed. I had been sitting there for two hours, looking at the lifeless body, tears still slowly traveling down my face. I knew I needed to end his suffering, to refuse his body to degrade itself by becoming one of those things, but this was my father and I couldn't yet bring myself to do it.

The sound of soft moans and growls came from the street below us; I went to the window to look out at what the night had brought with it, the cold feeling of my father's hand still lingering in my own as I left the bed. I pulled the blinds aside, revealing the staggering corpses as they aimlessly wandered around.

It had been a few weeks since the broadcasts had stopped and the number of creepers, as my father had begun to call them, had increased. Our own home had been destroyed when the raids had begun, forcing us out and further out of the heart of the city. We had managed to find the abandoned house we had been staying in, barricading the doors and windows for each night as the dead grew more and more restless. Somehow, our makeshift home had managed to keep the creepers out.

But, a couple of days ago, the barricades no longer were holding up and a creeper had managed to break through one of the windows, bringing several more trailing behind him. My father and I dispatched them quickly but sloppily since we had only had a few chances to practice actually taking these things out when they got too close.

I had thought it was over but one managed to sneak up on my dad before we had a chance to breathe. Dad had struggled and I hadn't been able to get a shot in before the creeper clamped down on his arm, blood spewing and trickling between its teeth. I finally had a shot, took it, and went to my father's side. We did our best to stop the bleeding, to do something to try and ease my father's pain, but we both knew what was coming. We both knew he was going to become one of the things we had just slaughtered; a hungry, rotting corpse.

For nearly an hour, after we had made sure the house was again secure and both of us had sobs constricting our throats and tears staining our cheeks, my father begged me to not let him become one of those things. But my heart, my sanity, couldn't let me. I couldn't make myself do it until the last moment when hope had been lost and there was no chance of returning to what had once been.

Looking back, I knew that I should have ended it, packed my things, and left. There was nothing left for me; the last family I had was gone and I was alone with nothing but corpses and the nightmare I now lived in.

Soft growls and moans emerged from behind me and I turned around to watch as my father came back with sick, yellow eyes and no memory of who I was or who he had been. He struggled against the ropes that held him down to the bed and I knew the time had come where I needed to make the hard choice. I went to the other wall where I had left my gun, picked it up, and aimed at what had once been my father. Tears began to trail down my cheeks once more.

"I love you, daddy," I whispered.

A squeeze, a deafening sound in my ears, and I slid down the wall, screaming into my hands...


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi guys! Sorry that I haven't updated in a while. Been super busy and had a bit of writer's block. I hope these next couple of chapters make up for it. Read and Review! Thanks!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own** ** _The Walking Dead_** **or any of its characters. They are the property of AMC and Robert Kirkman. I only own Olivia.**

Without calendars, wearing a watch that had broken ages ago, and the days slowly bleeding into one another, I hadn't been able to keep track of how long it had been since Dad had left me; left me here in this shit-hole of a world with flesh eating bastards that I just couldn't seem to get away from.

With the old memories weighing heavily on my mind, I noticed that I had finally made my way back to the highway, hoping to find more supplies to bring with me as I started out on my own again. I saw the stash of supplies Rick's group had left on the off chance that Sophia was alive and would make her way back to the highway, remembering the last place she had seen her makeshift family.

As I stared at the dirty words scrawled in the dust and the supplies trying to stand a chance against the hot sun, a pang of guilt beat in my heart. For the rest of my life, I knew that was the number one reason I would regret leaving. I would always think there was more searching I could have helped do, more trips into the woods. She was only a little girl, lost and afraid, much like how I had been after my father died. But Shane's voice boomed into my head, reminding me of the conversation we'd had the night before. And deep down, in a part of myself I hated, I knew he was right. There was no way a girl her age could have survived past a few days in a world like this.

That part that I hated began to walk to the old car and stuff the supplies into my bag, but a gunshot stopped me. I thought, _Maybe a walker just stumbled up the farm and they had to shoot it._ But then, a litany of gunshots broke out and another part of myself, the part that had reluctantly helped Daryl from that ravine, knew I had to go back. And the next thing I knew, my feet were beating down against the forest floor, carrying me back to Hershel's farmhouse, my back and bow in hand.

The corpses were littered on the ground, walkers that had once been family members, now gunned down, covered in gaping bullet holes. Rick could hear Hershel and his family crying, see them out of the corner of his eye as they clutched on to one another. His head was spinning, knowing that all of his hard work to keep his people here, had just gone up in smoke.

When they all thought that the damage was done, the nothing could get worse, a growl came from within the barn. A little undead body began to emerge from the open doors, white sneakers covered in grime and dirt, baby blue shirt caked in blood from the wound in her shoulder.

Everyone stared at the little girl, but Rick heard the screaming sobs from Carol as she began running forward. Daryl caught her before she reached the corpse, keeping her from losing herself to her daughter's hunger. Rick knew he had to make the shitty decision here. All these guns in front of him and no one was willing to let this reality sink in.

He cocked his head, finally letting all the hope he had had, believing Sophia was alive, disappear from his body. He took the Python from his holster, approaching the little girl, and aiming for her head, ready to deliver the fatal shot. He look into those sickening, yellow eyes and pulled the trigger.

I had been running until I finally got to where I had heard the shots coming from. What I had found sent me back to that day in the little apartment with a gun in my hand. Bodies were lying in unnatural positions in front of the barn, all of the men of Rick's group standing in front, shotguns in hand. And before I could comprehend what I was seeing, I saw another body emerge from the open doors. A blue shirt with blood, a rainbow once bright and colorful, crusted and faded. The little girl was beginning to slowly approach the group, and I caught sight of Carol running towards her. And it began to click; this must be Sophia...and I could feel the chill run down my spine despite the heat from the sun. I stared as Daryl kept a firm grip on Carol, keeping her from getting any closer.

I saw Shane standing among the group, but Rick was who caught my attention as he began approaching the little girl. I could feel myself getting lightheaded and weak as he pulled his gun from its holster. Falling to my knees, I couldn't keep my eyes open, a bolt like lightning crashing through me as a gunshot rang out.

 **Thanks for reading. Hope you enjoyed!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Hey, everyone! I know it's been forever since I updated this story but I found some of my chapters and decided to update it as I could. I promise that I'm going to do my best not to abandon this story and to continue working on it in the future. However, I do have some other story ideas and projects that I'm working on. Thank you for your patience!**

 **~GH**

Numb. That was the only way I could describe how I was feeling. I had just watched the little girl, who I hadn't known before arriving here, gunned down and felt all the work I had put in this last week drain into despair. Somewhere, an anger began to build up – for not being able to find Sophia, at the undead who plagued this world - and I began to feel everything else fade as I decided I wanted to act on that anger. I pulled myself up from the ground, focusing on the gun still clutched in Rick's hand. I yanked it from his grasp and spun to face Shane.

"What the hell do you think you're doing," Shane exclaimed, dropping the gun as he raised his hands in surprise.

"It's because of you we stopped looking. You had no faith and now here we are."

I knew I was being irrational; Shane couldn't have done any more than the rest of us, but my blood still boiled. He had lost hope that we could find her, and, in the week I had been here, I had felt the hope of the others dwindle from being the vibrant force it was when I had first arrived.

"Oh yeah?! You left before we had ever found her! You didn't stick around to see if she came home safe. You bailed in the middle of the night, you coward!"

"Shut up!" And the next thing I knew, the gun went off. And the bullet had struck square between the eyes of one of the creepers from the barn, even though it was no longer moving. I knew that what had just happened was unimaginably painful for Hershel and his family, but I wanted to shoot something. Preferably Shane, but a creeper was the next best thing.

Despite all my anger, I knew that he was right; I had seen the creepers in the barn the night before and bolted. I had let fear dictate my heart; if I was going to blame Shane for not continuing to want to look for Sophia, then I had to blame myself in the same breath.

I felt the gun slip from my grasp and looked up at Rick as he took it from me; I could feel my father looking at me through those eyes, telling me that I was going against everything that he had taught me and everything that had been drilled into me as a nurse. I was supposed to be a healer, but this world created murderers out of healers…

My eyes were drawn away from Rick's as I heard Hershel's daughter, Beth, sobbing and watched as she ran to one of the creepers on the dirt ground. But I felt my heart stop as I saw the supposed-to-be dead woman's hand rise from the earth and try to grab at her daughter. Her boyfriend pulled at her, trying to free her from the rotting fingers. The body finally stilled as Andrea grabbed a pick axe and thrust it through what was left of the woman's head. It released Beth, going still once more, and, in their shock and grief, the Greene family made their way back to the house, trying to process the massacre of their decomposed loved ones that they had just witnessed.

* * *

As we followed Hershel and his family up to the house, I was rethinking stealing Rick's gun and actually shooting Shane this time. He was spewing accusations, arguing with Maggie, and yelling at a defenseless Hershel as they tried to retreat to the last safe-haven they had. He went to grab for the older man, but Maggie pushed him back, slapping him across the face, spitting, "Haven't you done enough?" With that, they were finally free enough of Shane to go inside.

As he fumed, he turned to the rest of us and eyed me. "What," he hissed. "You're a piece of work, is all."

With his violent glare still locked onto me, I turned away from him and told Rick that I was going to go check on Carol. He nodded, and I made my way to the RV. As I walked away from the two men, I heard the harsh argument begin and I felt the hate seeping out of each of their voices like a poison.

* * *

Stepping in the RV, I noticed Daryl sitting on the countertop by the door, crossbow across his lap. He turned to see who was coming up, turning back when he recognized me, staring across at Carol who sat in the booth, gazing out the window with an empty expression and sorrowful eyes.

"Carol, do you need anything," I softly asked, knowing she had shut down. It was the same reaction I had had days after my father had died, not caring that I didn't eat or bathe. It was a dangerous state to be in.  
I crossed the room, sitting down on the other side of the booth, keeping my eyes on the older woman. In times like this, it was good to know others were here for you, even if to sit in silence as you grieved. It was something that I hadn't had, and I still had no idea how I had survived it.

A few moments later, Lori stepped into the RV, addressing Carol. "We're going to bury them soon. We thought you might like to say goodbye."

Carol choked out, "Why?"

It was Daryl who replied. "Because that's your little girl."

Carol turned from the window for the first time since I had gotten into the RV, shaking her head. "That's not my little girl. That's just some thing. My Sophia's been gone for a long time."

Lori sighed, hanging her head as she left. Daryl looked Carol over as she turned back to the window and I could see the creases in his jaw as it clenched. He jumped down from the counter, crossbow tight in his hand, and trudged his way down the stairs.

"I'll be back in a minute." Carol gave me no indication that she had heard me, continuing to look outside, somber eyes surveying the farm. Knowing she wouldn't give me a reply, I made my way out of the RV to catch up with Daryl. I caught him in the corner of my eye and looked to see him heading towards his part of camp. When I finally got up to his tent, he was sitting next to it on an overturned log, stabbing at the ground with his hunting knife.

I saw down near the log, reaching into my back pocket to fetch the packet of cigarettes and my lighter. It seemed that a lot had happened lately to warrant quite a few smokes. And if there was ever a time for one, that was it.

I held out the pack for him to grab one, which he did, and looked into it to get one for myself. Only two left after this; hopefully, there wouldn't be anything else to need another for a while, but who was I kidding? We each lit our own cigarette and sat in silence as we smoked.


End file.
